the muse appears behind shadows and in your eyes

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Sometimes the muse comes to me. I can never force her or push her. She comes when it is time. I am very glad she came to me, and that this poem appeared. I like it very much.

victorian window

drink the poppies slow
feel the chill down your spine
knowledge penetrating your skull
timeless matter
inevitable scars
energy linking your blood to mine
endless possibilities
endless amazement
life grows within
seeping through the flesh
spiraling without
filling in the gaps
when our insides get turned upside down
or right side up
when our language becomes insignificant
then we are equal